Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Harry Potter verse owns my soul.
First fan-fic- please be nice! Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated! :)
Shell Cottage, Cornwall, U.K.
Late Autumn, 1998
"You really don't know how to make tea?" Ginny asked for the third time, since Malfoy had announced a few minutes ago that he wanted a drink.
Malfoy just looked at her with his flat, unreadable grey eyes and folded his arms defensively across his chest.
"I just can't believe that!" Ginny shook her head as she filled the teakettle with water from the tap, "Although, I'm not sure why I'm so surprised."
"Me neither, Ginevra," Malfoy stated flatly, reaching up easily to pull out two mugs from the high shelf of the cupboard, "When the hell would I ever have had a reason to make tea? Especially the muggle way."
"Because nothing is more relaxing at the end of a long day than a cup of steaming, delicious tea?" Ginny turned to look at Malfoy with her eyebrows raised.
"Naw, maybe for a Gryffindor." Malfoy drawled glibly, "Personally, I've always found a couple of tumblers of burning hot firewhisky to do the trick after a hard day. Or rather, after most days."
Malfoy slanted his mischief-filled eyes toward Ginny, letting one corner of his shapely mouth turn up slightly. Ginny couldn't stop a laugh bursting forth, but forced her mouth into a straight line, not without some difficulty.
"Malfoy, be serious." Ginny chided, "Tea is delicious and nice and we're British and you should know how to make it, for goodness sake!"
Ginny crossed her arms protectively in front of her. Ginny had noticed, since being around Malfoy more, that he had an unfortunate habit of turning everything into a joke when it wasn't meant to be one. In doing so, he also had a habit of making Ginny laugh in his presence more than she had ever intended to and it made her feel off balance.
"House elves." Malfoy said simply after a moment, peering into the cardboard box of tea bags that Ginny had pointed out. "What do I do with these?"
Ginny took the box from Malfoy and took out two tea bags, explaining, "You put one in each mug and then pour the hot water over it when it boils. Then you let the tea steep for a couple minutes, depending on how strong you like it, and then take the tea bag out."
Malfoy cocked one slender, slanted eyebrow. "That's it?"
"Well, you can add milk or sugar or both, if you want." Ginny shrugged one shoulder gracefully. "That's it."
"Huh." Malfoy folded his arms and leaned one narrow hip casually against the counter as he listened to the kettle begin to boil.
"What about house elves?" Ginny busied herself pouring water into both teacups, keeping her eyes purposefully on her task. "I hadn't, actually, forgotten that you said that."
Malfoy paused, angling his body away from Ginny, and traced indeterminate lines on the kitchen counter. Ginny had noticed that Malfoy had a tendency to shut down when anything about his old life was mentioned, so had been surprised to hear him bring up house elves. While talking about house elves seemed innocuous enough, it clearly reminded him of his past.
"Never had a reason to make tea on my own before." Malfoy stated finally, shrugging his shoulders elegantly, "On account of the house elves."
The kitchen was silent for thirty, long, echoing ticks of the kitchen clock. Ginny cleared her throat nervously, unsure of what to say, and stirred her tea bag around in her cup. She hazarded a glance at Malfoy and found him staring moodily at his tea, his brow furrowed. That was the other thing about Malfoy, Ginny realized; he didn't have an emotional baseline. He would either make joking, caustically witty remarks about any attempt at a serious conversation, or would turn suddenly, silently, darkly brooding.
Malfoy's preoccupation with his teacup allowed Ginny a rare moment to study his face and, greedily, she took advantage of that. The sharp, cutting lines of his jaw and cheekbones should have been too harsh when combined with the surprising bow of his lips or the rounded shape of his light eyes, but Ginny found herself drawn to the unique aesthetics of his face.
Abruptly, Malfoy turned in Ginny's direction and stated, "Is this thing done yet?"
Ginny jumped and quickly cut her eyes away from Malfoy's face, hoping he hadn't caught her staring at him. Although their initial icy hostility had been melted and slowly tempered into a cautious, malleable camaraderie, Ginny had no doubt that Malfoy would not miss an opportunity to use any perceived weakness of hers against her when one of his dark moods descended. Hopefully he was so preoccupied with his brooding that he hadn't caught the way her eyes had lingered gently on his face.
"It can be. Milk or sugar?" Ginny attempted to act casual as she gestured to the sugar bowl on the counter.
Malfoy shook his head tersely, nodded once at her, and carried his mug out of the kitchen, taking his sudden dark mood with him. Ginny let out a breath as she felt the close atmosphere that had overtaken the kitchen shift and expand at his exit, but it did nothing to lessen the ever-increasing tight feeling in her chest.
Hogwarts
Winter, 1997
"There's definitely something going on with him," Harry was saying to Ron and Hermione while the three friends sat huddled in front of the fire in the common room. "You guys remember what we saw on the train at the beginning-"
Ginny wrinkled her brow and instinctively leaned closer, straining to hear a response as their voices dropped, all while pretending to do homework at a table across the room. What had they seen on the train? The three of them had been whispering together more than usual lately and Ginny was feeling frustrated at being left out of events again, despite having helped them in the Department of Mysteries last summer. It drove her crazy that Ron and Hermione still considered her too young to be involved and Harry still thought of her as a little sister. Ginny was determined this year to prove to them that she was capable, worthy, and definitely not a little girl.
"-never see him other than classes and he rarely instigates us anymore. He never used to miss a chance to insult us!" Harry whispered fiercely.
Ginny sucked in a breath and sat back slightly, they must be talking about Malfoy.
"You know, I have noticed that, too." Ron was saying slowly. "And he has been looking even uglier and paler than usual lately."
"I don't think we should assume anything, yet." Hermione said firmly and primly, "It's dangerous to make assumptions. But you're right; we should keep a closer eye on him. It does sound suspicious."
Ginny hastily gathered her items together and hurried towards the door, nearly tripping over her dragging scarf in the process. As she passed the fire, she observed three, identical, startled expressions, outlined starkly in the firelight; they obviously had had no idea she was there.
"Ginny!" Ron called, "Hi! Where are you going?"
Ginny didn't answer as she hurried through the portrait hole and turned in the direction of the library, a plan beginning to take shape in her mind. Ginny had always been observant and was obviously good at staying out of sight and unnoticed; she would have to start paying closer attention to Draco Malfoy.
Ginny sighed, placed her quill down on the table, and scrunched down in her chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. It was a Saturday night, yet Ginny was at the library, finishing some assignments that had gotten pushed aside over the past few weeks. At this hour, the library was almost completely devoid of students and no on else was currently in sight. She leaned back in her chair to check the large clock that hung over the center desk in the library: 11:03 pm. Ginny's eyes widened in realization and she sat up hurriedly, blinking her tired eyes rapidly in an effort to keep them open and alert. She couldn't afford to miss anything this time.
For the past month, since overhearing Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the common room, Ginny had been casually and surreptitiously tracking Draco Malfoy. She had accumulated extensive observations about him in the past four weeks, all of which had been diligently and carefully recorded in a little notebook, which she kept tucked in an inside pocket of her robes. She knew that he went to classes like normal, but always went directly back to his common room after, not stopping to socialize with anyone, as he used to. She knew that he almost never was seen in the Great Hall for meals anymore and had been suspiciously absent from Quidditch practice this past week as well. She also knew that she had seen him ducking by in the halls, head down and shoving harshly through people, and she could have sworn that once it had looked as if he had been crying.
The other thing she knew, and the real reason that had brought her to the library tonight, was this: Every Saturday night, at exactly 11:00 pm, Malfoy showed up at the library. He would remain there, poring over heavy books obtained strictly from the restricted section, for hours. Ginny was never able to figure out how long he lingered there, nor had she yet gathered up the courage to casually walk by in attempt to see what he was doing, as she had fallen asleep on her books for the previous three Saturday nights.
A thud echoed through the high-ceilinged room, and Ginny jumped, recognizing the sound of the heavy library doors closing. Ginny hunched over her books and picked up her quill, but all of her attention was focused on the quick footsteps moving towards the library desk. Ginny chanced a look, using a sheet of hanging, red hair as a curtain, and watched Malfoy quickly flash Madam Pince a note and then continue confidently towards the Restricted Section. Ginny chewed on the end of her quill, staring down at her parchment for several long moments, seeing nothing. Who on earth would be signing notes for Malfoy to look at suspicious books in the Restricted Section? Professor Snape? Ginny jotted a note down in her notebook, and was startled to hear a chair scrape back from only a few tables away.
Ginny hazarded another look up and nearly fell out of her seat when her cautious glance met Malfoy's glinting eyes. While normally Malfoy sat further away and always selected a chair that faced the other direction, this time, he was sitting in a chair that was facing her. He was leaning back in his chair, with his long legs stretched elegantly out in front of him. He was also staring at her unabashedly, and even from this slight distance, Ginny could tell he was smirking. Is he trying to make me nervous? Scare me off? It won't work. Even as she thought it, though, Ginny knew that it was working and she cut her eyes down to her book. She could still feel his eyes on her and it was making her skin crawl.
Slowly and methodically, Ginny began to gather her books and parchments together and put them back in her schoolbag, as if it had always been her intention to leave the library at exactly that moment. She forced herself to stand up and could hear Malfoy begin to chuckle. Ginny's eyes narrowed; she hated that she was allowing him to scare her away. With an unflappable expression on her face, Ginny stood and aimed herself towards the exit of the library, directly beyond Malfoy's table.
She kept her head up as she approached and boldly glared at Malfoy, slowing her steps. As she reached his table, Ginny let her eyes nonchalantly drop down to the books spread out before him, noticing at least one of the titles there looked as if it could be a Dark Arts book. She struggled to make out a few words of the title and lodged them in her memory. Malfoy, apparently, had been so preoccupied in making her feel uncomfortable that he hadn't bothered to hide the books until it was too late.
Malfoy's eyebrows were raised in panic and Ginny knew that he knew that she had seen something. Ginny smirked triumphantly, but then he turned to her and his face was contorted into a rictus of horror. His jaw clenched tightly, his expressive mouth twisted with dread, teeth bared like a rabid animal, and the horror expressed in his swirling, light eyes made him look demented. Astonished, Ginny was momentarily frozen in fear (too close, I'm too close) and wondered if Malfoy was going to curse her or hit her. Then she back-peddled, turning to burst quickly through the library doors.
It was almost 11:30 and Ginny was so exhausted she thought she could lie down right there on the cold, bare floor and comfortably fall asleep, but she knew that she should go to Professor Dumbledore while the memory of what she had seen was still fresh. She quickened her pace again upon hearing footsteps behind her, worried that it was Malfoy following her. By the time she was nearing Dumbledore's office, she was out of breath and panting. While still hurrying towards the office entrance, she reached down into her bag to find the note she'd had signed by Madam Pince that allowed her to travel back from the library after hours, and bumped into someone, stumbling.
Ginny caught herself and looked up to find Professor McGonagall in front of her, looking typically imposing with a stern and startled expression on her face.
"Miss Weasley, what on earth are you doing running around the halls at this hour?" McGonagall demanded, "Do you have a permission note?"
Ginny thrust the wrinkled scrap of parchment at McGonagall, brushing her hair back from her face and fidgeting impatiently.
McGonagall examined the note quickly and then peered at Ginny over the top of her spectacles, sighing. "Miss Weasley, this note gives you permission solely to go back to your dormitory from the library."
"Yes, but-" Ginny began.
McGonagall pursed her lips, "I was not aware that the location of the Gryffindor dormitory had changed."
"No Professor, it hasn't, but I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore!" Ginny was practically vibrating with repressed energy and bouncing impatiently on her toes, "It's urgent."
McGonagall regarded Ginny for a moment, tilting her head. "Professor Dumbledore is occupied at the moment. I would suggest coming to see him at a more convenient hour. During the daytime, perhaps?" McGonagall said pointedly.
Resigned, Ginny sighed, and nodded, feeling her shoulders slump. McGonagall didn't speak, but neither did she move away. After a moment, she said,
"Unless, of course, there's something I could help you with."
Relieved, Ginny straightened and nodded emphatically,
"Yes, Professor, there is."
Ginny paused and allowed her gaze to meet McGonagall's for several beats.
"I'm worried about Draco Malfoy."